


The Herald

by MAVEfm



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Justice League (2017), Justice League - All Media Types, The Flash - All Media Types, Wonder Woman (2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 20:45:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12802023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAVEfm/pseuds/MAVEfm
Summary: Barry Allen is struck by lightning.And Hermes falls from Olympus.





	The Herald

  
  
  
  
  


There They are.

 

The great god Hermes is a fleeting feeling, the apprehension you feel before a big choice, a trip, a story. They are nothing but energy, the Messenger, the Herald.

 

They have traveled through space and time, They have brought forth Hope and Destruction.

 

They have grown from simple origins, a baby wrapped tightly in Their crib as Their mother sang, and as she drifted to sleep They made Their way into the world to invent the lyre. They strummed and sang and saw the world laid out, bare and ready for him as They took Their first steps and spied Their Brother Apollo’s sacred red cows.

 

Hermes looked upon travelers and breathed into them a steady pace and a light pack.

 

They moved with constant vigor, speeding through the universe, past stars, and greeting constellations. The other gods were too slow, stopping, breathing, talking. Too slow for the messenger, too slow for the energy, the speed, the _ force. _

 

The breaths between words took too long, and where was Hermes? Gone, in a spark of fire, a blink, a flash. 

 

Remain still, Zeus would bellow, shout, plead from Olympus, remain, so that I may see the face of my child.

 

Hermes has no face, only words, and thoughts, ideas to breath into humanity, energy, and power to see the future and past and present all at once. 

 

Where are you? Ares will call upon Them someday, and Hermes can just glimpse it.

 

Fate.

 

There is no greater joy to Hermes than that of a simple breeze.

 

They are fast, and it is slow, it plays with Them, a game like no other. A game of catch, and while Hermes cannot be beaten in a race, They are outfoxed by something so slow and steady. 

 

Where does the breeze go? Where will it take Them, if They can one day follow?

 

Ares is angry, They see it, a darkness brooding, that will one day consume him.

 

The sea spits and the sky cracks and Hermes can never be touched.

 

They stop for Their mother. The body is tight, restricting, parts Them jump and twitch and They are too big for what once housed his boundlessness.

 

She loves Them anyway.

 

You are my child, She says, You were not meant to be contained.

 

Electricity crackles and They are restlessness, nerves, anxiety, panic.

 

They breathe.

 

They are pure and focused life, constant movement, an equal and opposite force.

 

They cannot be stopped, and yet They never move.

 

Artemis cannot catch Them, though she tries, and They love her, a master at what she creates, tames, and understands.

 

They cannot be caught by anyone, man, or god, or Atlantian.

 

A bounty is placed, catch the Herald, endless riches!

 

The only riches They know are of endless movement, constant speed, life, energy, running, flying, spinning, They are a jumble, a mess, an amalgamation of everything that ever was and will ever be- lighting, a conductor, producer, creator.

 

Hydrogen and Radon and Kryptonite, Silver, Gold-

 

Formed where They stir the forces of energy.

 

Ares is angry.

 

Hermes feels the tides change, the waves swell, the Earth turn and Olympus- A breathing mountain, a heartbeat where rock and stone should never wake.

 

And it's burning.

 

They feel the heat, the sickness, the darkness that inhabits Their brother, the hatred, and disgust for humanity. The humanity that Hermes had helped cultivate.

 

Small bodies brimming with hope and defiance and adventures that They had hoped to set them upon.

 

The tides shifted low, and horses form froth and women form from riptides, swords in hand and borne fully grown into indestructible skin. Energy where there once was none and Hermes’ body buzzes, twisted and turning between them, giving them the strength they ask for.

 

The Amazons.

 

Beautiful, boundless, warriors.

 

Hermes had no part in them, no idea, but they have life, speed, agility, and They are part of that, blessing these women with an untameable drive even as they rush to find death at the hands of the War God.

 

“Brother!” Ares says, yells, whispers,  “Hermes, let me see your face, my brother, my sister, my family, they say you are as beautiful as Summer.”

 

Hermes stops, in between the seconds, in between letters, in between the pulse of life.

 

Ares sees and for a moment he is afraid.

 

Electricity bubbles and clings to the surroundings, Olympus crumbles.

 

Hermes is more than beautiful, more than words and thoughts and ideas can fathom.   
  


Ares has seen Them for the first time, not as a face, because They never truly needed one, but as the being of purity that They are.

 

And for a moment he is afraid.

 

And Hermes stops again.

 

And Zeus strikes Ares down.

 

Ares grabs at lightning on the way down.

 

“Oh, Brother, help me,” He begs.

 

Hermes cringes, tingles, and disgusted at Their brothers crackled hatred, sparking red and burning at his touch, They brush him away.

 

“Brother,” Ares tumbles, “You  _ must.” _

 

Red electricity crackles and Hermes is halted and They feel…

 

They feel pain.

 

They haven’t stopped, truly, but something is pricked, slashed, stabbed, penetrated.

 

They crackled.

 

They strangled Ares and the clouds gather and Zeus screams as his children bicker, quarrel, brawl.

 

“They say you are boundless, loving, ancient and young all at once, Brother,” Ares growls and spits, “A fool! They are nothing, these humans? Idiotic, disgusting creatures-”

 

Hermes bleeds, cracks, splits, No, They speak, echo, whisper, something fast, because speech is so slow,  _ dying _ is too slow.

 

So They won’t.

 

Ares coughs blood and falls at a pace that Hermes could see two lifetimes through.

 

Storms gather across time and Hermes condenses, thins, forms spring into being that Zeus channels to kiss Them goodbye: “We will meet again my son.”

  
  


Across time, across space, lightning strikes.

  
  
  


Barry Allen is struck, so innocently, in study, he is perfect for Them.

 

They can see into his life, peek at mysteries and secrets.

 

They can see the Good that he is, the kindness.

 

And They make themselves small, even as They bleed pure force.

 

And for a moment Bartholomew Allen is crushed, beaten, sleeping.

 

Hermes looks down at this body, the thin fingers and long hair. The clothes and his beating heart, pumping electricity and energy.

 

They feel as if They fit.

 

Barry Allen fits Hermes and Hermes fits Barry Allen.

 

“Yes,” They say, feeling the way Barry Allen’s vocal chords vibrate, the way his brain maps signals to his nerves and his nerves to his muscles and organs. “Barry Allen.” They state, feeling the way They push against Barry’s eyes, glowing blue with heat, “I see.”

 

They love him.

 

They love Barry Allen, because he is Their life, even as Ares scrabbles and claws his way from Hades. Barry Allen becomes Them, and They become Barry Allen.

 

They brush his cheek and ask him, politely, affectionately: “Please?”

 

There is no need for an answer.

 

Barry Allen sleeps, Hermes sleeps.

 

Barry Allen wakes up.

 

 


End file.
